Page 23

“M ore! Push yourself harder!” Kylo demands.

I try. I lift the burning ball of fire higher, willing it to blaze brighter, larger. It’s by far the biggest I’ve ever conjured, about the size of my head.

“Reign, don’t be afraid. Make it bigger,” Kylo orders again.

“I’m trying, captain!” I snap, sweat streaming down my face. Every muscle in my body aches from fatigue, making me sway on my feet.

“Enough.”

I collapse to my knees and my magic ceases. The once vibrant ball of fire flickers out, dwindling into nothing.

Gasping for air, I stare at the ground, completely spent. Kylo has pushed me harder than ever before. Suddenly, knees appear in front of me, close enough to brush against my own.

I lift my head to meet Kylo’s kind brown eyes. “You are holding back, whether you realize it or not. I feel your magic. You can do much more— so much more.”

He stands, extending a hand toward me, which I graciously take.

“Come. Let’s get some water.”

We walk over to a table near the weapons. My legs tremble from the strain of the magic I just unleashed. On the other side of the training yard, I notice Captain James moving through the grounds, helping the other prisoners—Elm included. A smile tugs at my lips at the sight of it.

A guard is walking toward Kylo, the same one that guarded the entrance to the cursed roses. Something about him feels off. He is dangerous. He feels… evil.

He looks me dead in the eyes and smiles. The smile is full of malicious intent. A chill reverberates down my spine, and every hair on my arms and neck stands on end at the darkness I find in his eyes.

The guard gestures for Kylo to follow him, I can only assume it’s to prevent a lowly prisoner like me from being able to overhear. James must’ve been watching too because curiosity is written all over his face as he heads over to them. I can only tell so much from the looks on their faces, but I can’t bring myself to look away either. Instead, I guzzle down a cup of water like it’s the last mug of it in the kingdom. Soon, James’s expression shifts, determination hardening into a scowl. Whatever the guard said couldn’t have been good, because Kylo’s expression, too, had changed—to worry.

The guard walks off and heads back into the palace while Kylo walks to the other contestants. Captain James is beelining straight toward me. Each of his stomps radiate anger as it kicks up dirt.

“Captain James,” I greet him with a nod.

He doesn’t say a word but grabs a lethal-looking dagger from the table and hands it to me.

“Here, you will need this. They moved the third trial up. You are about to leave. Beware of the snakes. Watch out for their tails and burn their eyes if you get a chance to. Be wary of moving sand.”

I take the dagger, a little caught off guard. Why are they moving up the trials? Where is Prince Lukene?

I sheath the dagger in my boot. “When do we leave?”

He dismisses my questions. “The carriages are almost ready. Come. Kylo will explain everything.” He places an arm around my shoulders in a comforting yet protective way as we walk over.

Captain Kylo has the other prisoners gathered around him, listening intently.

“The third trial has been moved up. The carriages will be ready by the time we finish here. You will be dropped off at the edge of Umbrahdor at the kingdom’s border before Valrum. You are to work together! Find the catacombs in the sand. We have heard that there is an important book there—important to the King and Princess Vanna. Retrieve the book and come back to the carriages at the border line.”

Well, that doesn’t seem that hard. Surviving the other contestants might be the hardest part.

“Beware of the serpents and desert pincers. The nights are cold. We have provided supplies in the carriages. Make haste.”

The contestants head to the palace. I follow behind them, trailing a few paces back, until Kylo falls into step next to me.

“Something is amiss. Keep your eyes open and stay near Elm,” he says, his voice low. I look at him, unsure why he seems concerned.

I glance at him, puzzled by his demeanor. “Captain Kylo, you almost sound worried about me.” I offer a teasing smile.

He lifts the corner of his mouth slightly. “Of course I am concerned. If something happens to you, I am the one that must deal with Prince Lukene’s wrath.”

“Prince Lukene doesn’t care what happens to me,” I mutter, turning to leave.

Kylo catches my arm. “Reign, open your eyes to what is so blatantly in front of you. I have known Luke my whole life and never seen him act like this with anyone but you. Besides,” he adds with a genuine smile, “I’d miss pushing you around during training if something happened to you.”

Captain James appears at my other side, and I return Kylo’s smile. “I will be safe. I promise.”

“Here,” James says, undoing his cloak, and draping it over my shoulders. “Be careful. Remember what I said about the snakes.” His furrowed brows remind me of a concerned father.

A guard I have never seen before opens the carriage as three contestants climb in. In the other carriage, I spot Elm among the contestants. I go to climb in but that creepy guard that spoke to Elm and James earlier, steps up and grabs my hand to help me. Just as I duck into the carriage, he clutches my rear end. I jerk away, seething, and take a seat on one of the benches inside, trying to ignore his smile pressed against the glass. Goosebumps ripple over my skin at the malevolence that drips from his sneer.

I need to stay far from him if I want to make it through this trial alive.

* * *

After a long day of traveling, we reach the edge of the kingdom. The guards release us from the confines of the carriage, handing each of us a satchel of supplies and snapping the familiar tracking bracelets onto our wrists.

“Work together, find the catacombs, retrieve the book, and return as quickly as possible. We will be waiting here.”

Despite the setting sun we walk across the kingdom’s border. The sand is picked up by the chilly fall wind and pelts our faces. I pull James’s cloak tightly around me, thanking the gods and goddesses for his kindness because this cloak protects me from both the sand and the coolness. Elm is at my side, his eyes frantically scanning our surroundings.

Ahead lies a vast sea of sand—dunes upon dunes stretching endlessly. My ankles throb with each step, though it hasn’t even been that long. I reach into the satchel where my fingers clamp around a piece of parchment. It’s a map, but the sketch is rough and hard to follow. With no obvious landmarks in sight, I stuff the map away and press on.

Well after the sun has set and our muscles are sore, we set up camp. We come upon some jagged rocks that have acacia trees and yucca plants surrounding them. It will be a good shelter from the sand and wind. Elm lays out our bed rolls. We sit upon them in the dark and eat the rations that were provided in our satchels. I am thankful for the rest because every muscle in my legs is screaming from walking in the sand.

The moon hangs high, illuminating the desert with a pale glow. Stars glitter overhead, their brightness almost ominous as if forewarning us of what is to come.

“Hey, Toy! Can’t you start a fire with your magic?” Jake jeers.

“Don’t call me that!” I snap.

The others chuckle, except Marshalla, who smacks Jake’s chest with a scoff.

“Leave her alone, Jake! First and final warning,” Elm demands.

“Or what, Elm? What is it you think you’re going to?—”

Elm’s palm blade flies through the air, slicing through the chatter with a sharp whoosh before it strikes the tree right next to Jake’s head, cutting his words off.

DINK!

Jake freezes, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Elm stalks over and bends down in front of him. He yanks the knife out of the tree without saying another word. He doesn’t have to. Then, he walks back over to me.

“The fire would attract beasts out here,” Elm says, voice steady. “We use the moonlight. If you’re cold, share body heat. We need to work together.”

With that, the others settle into their bedrolls, clustering together for warmth. Elm and I keep some distance from the rest of the group, our backs pressed together.

I try to close my eyes, but the silence in this place feels wrong, unsettling. The wind howls, whispering words like a bad omen carried across the night air. The cold bites deeper at night. With every gust of wind, the sand stings my eyes.

“You need to sleep, Reign,” Elm says immediately after I huff.

“I can’t. Don’t you find the quietness disturbing? Plus, the damn sand keeps blowing in my face.”

“It’s the desert. There is nothing out here. I enjoy the silence. Here… turn toward me. The sand won’t blow in your face. I’ll shield you.”

I shift toward Elm, and his arms wrap around me, pulling me close. I bury my face in his chest, the warmth soothing the chill in my bones. With the sand no longer in my face, I relax a little, grateful for his protection. Elm has always been the big brother I never had but always wanted—steady, protective, and dependable. I tug a loose edge of my cloak over him, sharing what warmth I can in return.

As we lay there, Kylo’s words echo in my mind: “I have known Luke my whole life and never seen him act like this with anyone but you.” The thought only deepens the confusion swirling inside me about how and what I feel for the prince. I let my mind drift to a handsome black-haired, green-eyed man and wonder what it would be like to be wrapped in his arms, to be enveloped in his shadows. How would his lips feel on mine? I know I shouldn’t think like that, but I allow myself to for just a few moments.

* * *

“Ahh.” A guttural scream shatters the silence.

Elm and I jolt awake at a gut-wrenching yell that pierces the air violently. We’re on our feet in seconds, eyes snapping toward the other contestants. The rising sun casts a golden, ominous glow over the sands. Nothing could prepare me for what I see next.

Pincers the size of scythes burst through the sand, breaking the surface. It clamps down on the lower leg of a male contestant. His continuous screams are sharp and blood-curdling.

In seconds, the creature fully emerges. Its wiry, tan body—about the size of a dog—moves with eerie precision on several spindly legs, skittering like an oversized insect. Two massive pincers jut from each side, clamping and twitching. Above its back, a barbed tail arches high, ending in a sharp spike poised to strike.

With a brutal snap, one pincer clamps down, severing the contestant’s leg with a crunch. Before any of us can react, the creature’s tail plunges into his chest. When it’s finished, it drags the now-limp body back beneath the sand.

“What the fuck is that?” Jake shouts, his voice cracking.

“I don’t know!” Elm yells, “Get on the rocks. It’s coming from the sand.”

Elm grabs my hand and shoves me in front of him. When we get to the rock, he helps me climb up with three other contestants. There isn’t enough room up here for anyone else. The rocks are steep and jagged, and we are barely fitting as it is. Elm runs to one of the acacia trees and scales it alongside another contestant.

“Zahara, what in the double burning hells are you doing?” Jake barks at one of the prisoners—a girl with long golden hair.

She has her hand in the sand and her eyes closed. “I have earth magic. I am trying to see if I can sense any more down there or where that one went.”

We all go silent, our eyes are stuck on her. Even the wind seems to hold its breath in anticipation, as if waiting for the next horror to unfold. The seconds crawl by, my pulse pounding in my ears. My breathing stutters, each new breath shallow and ragged, sweat beading along my brow.

Zahara’s eyes snap open, wide with fear. “One of them is close, I can feel it near us.”

The words barely escape her lips before a pincer bursts from the sand, latching onto her elbow and slicing clean through bone. Her scream cuts through whatever stillness we felt, raw and piercing. I watch as she crumples into the sand.

I hurl myself from the rock and sprint toward where she lay in a heap among the dunes.

“Reign, get the fuck back on the rock,” Elm growls, but I ignore him, trying to pull her body back.

“It will kill her, Elm,” I shout over my shoulder. I cannot standby and wait for another contestant to die. I wasn’t the only one who survived the Hollows. Contestants or not, if I can save her, I need to try.

Elm jumps down and helps me bring her to the rock, but we can’t get her up on it. Blood pours from the jagged stump where her arm used to be. Her severed limb lies only a few paces away, the sand around it soaked with blood and a trail leading right for us.

Elm tears his tunic and ties it tightly above her wound, trying to slow the bleeding.

The sand shifts again. Pincers breach the surface, hungry for more of us.

“Elm!” I yell.

He spins, dagger in hand. I draw mine as well, ready. Elm circles to the creature’s right, forcing it to focus on him and him alone. When it lunges at Elm, I swing my long blade and remove its tail in one clean swipe while Elm stabs it in its back. The thing screeches an unearthly screech, then falls over to its side, bleeding out black putrid smelling blood.

We rush back to Zahara who is now an unnatural shade of gray.

“Zahara, I have to burn the end of your arm,” I tell her. Her wide, frightened eyes lock onto mine. “You need to trust me, or you will bleed out.”

The golden-haired girl seems stunned, her mouth opening and closing as if words won’t come. I wait, knowing we’re short on time, but Zahara gives a small, shaky nod. She knows it’s her only chance at survival.

“You can’t be serious right now.” Jake’s voice crackles with disbelief.

“We have no other choice, unless you have a better idea?” Elm asks with a huff. When Jake remains silent, Elm exhales sharply. “Thought so.” He moves behind Zahara pulling her against his chest to steady her for me.

I lift her wounded arm, my stomach lurching at the sight—exposed bone, torn muscle, and skin hanging in shreds. I don’t know if I can do this. The thought hits me with a wave of nausea and I double over, retching but nothing comes.

Elm reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently, a show of support. When I dare a glance at him, he braids his fingers and kisses them. I give him a curt nod, swallowing my panic and steadying myself. I’m the only one who can do this.

Drawing on my power, I conjure a small, flickering flame at my fingertip. Elm tightens his hold on Zahara as I bring the fire to the jagged edges of her arm. She thrashes against it, a scream ripping from her throat before she slips into unconsciousness.

Once the wound is sealed, I extinguish my flames.

“Great! You killed her, just like you killed everyone else,” Jake sneers, jumping down from the rock and stomping in my direction.

“She passed out Jake. Leave it!” Elm barks, teeth clenched.

The smell of blood and burning flesh clings to the air, my nausea ebbing in my gut, threatening to rise.

“We need to move,” Marshalla says, her voice calm but urgent. She drops down from the rock, her short black hair catching in the wind as she strides over to Zahara and kneels next to the other girl.

“I saw something in the distance,” she continues, pointing past the jagged stones. “It looked like a building—a small one.” Placing her hands to Zahara’s head, Marshella closes her eyes. Zahara stirs, blinking awake.

I look at her in confusion. “What is your magic?”

“I am a healer,” she answers with a tight smile. “I thought it might work on her mind since the pain is what knocked her out. I can be useful.”

Zahara grunts in discomfort, glancing down at her arm with rising panic. Elm helps her to feet, murmuring softly to calm her.

The rest of us gather our things and follow Marshalla, trusting her direction even though the building she saw isn’t visible from where we stand. With no other options, we move forward, blind but determined.

* * *

We walk for half the day, the sun beating down on us while the wind continues to pelt grains of sand into our faces. My face feels slightly burnt and my mouth feels like cotton. I think my mouth is drier than the sand beneath my feet. I drained my waterskin hours ago, but all it did was leave my thirst clawing deeper.

Despite the bright blazing sun, it was still a cool, windy day. When we reach the structure Marshalla spotted, we can’t be sure if it is the catacombs. A small stone roof juts out from the sand, the remnants of a building partially buried beneath the dunes. I guess Kylo wasn’t kidding when he said it would be in the sand.

“This has to be it, right?” Jake asks, glancing at another contestant who only shrugs.

Marshalla approaches the structure, running her fingers over the weathered stone. The entrance is visible, but sand blocks the way, filling the doorway completely.

“How are we supposed to dig it out?” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.

Zahara stumbles forward, nearly collapsing onto the sand in front of the building. Elm moves to steady her, but she waves him off and sinks her hand into the sand.

“Everyone back away,” she warns, her voice strained.

The ground vibrates beneath us, and the sand shifts, rolling away from the stone walls like water retreating from a shore. Zahara sways, her face pale, but Elm drops beside her, lifting his hand. A breeze kicks up, summoned by his wind magic, and helps push the remaining sand away. His magic isn’t powerful, but it works. Slowly, the building emerges, revealing smooth gravestones scattered around it, their surfaces untouched by any inscriptions.

When the doorway is mostly clear, Zahara collapses onto the ground, gasping for breath. Sweat glistens on her brow, her energy spent from the magic and blood loss.

“Marshalla, get her awake. Jake, watch their backs. One of you stay here with them—the other, come with me and Reign,” Elm orders, his voice sharp with authority.

I follow Elm to the stone structure, hoping it really is the catacombs. It certainly looks the part. Together, we heave at the door, muscles straining until it finally gives way, scraping open just enough for us to slip through.

Inside, a heavy stone sarcophagus rests in the centre of the room, surrounded by half-burned candles, thick cobwebs, and layers of sand. The air feels stale, heavy, like it hasn’t been disturbed in centuries.

Darkness presses in around us, so I summon a flame, a glowing orb flickering at my fingertips. The warmth barely touches the cold draft swirling through the room, the chill sinking into my bones. Something about it feels wrong. The hairs on my arms rise, a shiver running down my spine.

Elm tenses, his gaze darting between me and the other prisoner. There are no windows, no other doors—so where is the draft coming from?

“There aren’t any books here. And how do we even know which one is the right book?” the prisoner mutters, frustration lining his voice.

“Just keep looking. It’s probably in the sarcophagus,” Elm says.

The prisoner heaves the sarcophagus lid open, and with a low rumble, a hidden door slides open at the back of the room. Beyond it, a staircase spirals down into darkness.

“It’s here!” the prisoner exclaims, pulling a thick, old leather-bound book from inside the sarcophagus.

As soon as the book leaves the coffin, the candles surrounding us blaze to life, only to sputter out moments later, plunging the room back into darkness. The prisoner stumbles back, body convulsing violently. The book slips from his hands, slamming onto the stone floor with a hollow thud that echoes through the chamber.

Elm and I gasp in unison.

The prisoner’s eyes turn completely black, blood dripping from the corners of his eyes and leaking from his ears. Foamy crimson spills from his nose and mouth as he collapses to the ground, his skin fading to an unnatural gray.

“Elm… What was tha?—”

“I... I don’t know,” Elm stammers, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as if trying to block out what he just witnessed. “It must be a blood curse—punishment for anyone who opens the sarcophagus and touches the book. But we have what we came for. There’s no reason to go down those stairs.”

I nod, the weight of the situation sinking in. “What could be in this book? What’s so important that the King and Princess Vanna needed it—and dangerous enough to be cursed?”

Elm’s face tightens with unease, confusion clouding his expression. His hands rest on his hips as he stares at the book, brows furrowed. “I have no idea, but we shouldn’t touch it directly—or open it.”

“Agreed. Hand me your satchel.”

Elm passes his bag to me. I empty my supplies into his and hand him the now full satchel. Using my empty one, I scoop the cursed book inside and sling it over my shoulder.

“Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

We step out of the building, and the other prisoners look up. Marshalla is the first to notice us, rising to her feet.

“Where’s Larry?” she asks, her eyes scanning the two of us.

I shake my head at Marshalla.

“Shit. He was a good kid,” she mutters, pressing a hand to her forehead and staring at the ground. “I can’t wake her yet. She needs to rest, and then I’ll try again.”

I start to walk over to them but the sand beneath my feet begins to tremble violently. A giant double headed serpent dives out from the sand. James told me to beware of snakes, but this is not just a snake. It has two heads—each big enough to swallow me whole. Its tan and brown body is thicker than a tree trunk.

One of the heads strikes before anyone can react, swallowing Zahara whole in a single, horrifying gulp.

“It’s tail! Watch out for its tail!” I scream at Elm, but the warning comes too late. The serpent’s tail lashes out, winding around Elm’s body and squeezing tight as both heads snap at the rest of us.

James’s words echo in my mind—burn its eyes. Panic swells, settling like a stone in my gut. I refuse to lose Elm. Not today.

Desperation fuels my magic. I pull the fear from my core and channel it into my hand, conjuring the largest fireball I’ve ever created. It hovers above my palm, blazing hot and searing the air around me.

I hurl the fireball at the nearest head, but it dodges, moving faster than I anticipated. Elm’s face darkens to a dangerous shade of purple. My heart slams against my ribs, every beat deafening. Sweat slicks my skin, and my thoughts scatter, lost in the chaos.

I have to be faster. I summon three smaller fireballs, each pulsing with heat, and whip them at the serpent. One of the heads dives and snaps a prisoner clean in half just as my fire strikes the other head squarely between its eyes.

Both heads rear back, hissing in unison. The sound vibrates through my spine, making my teeth clatter painfully. The serpent releases Elm, its massive body slithering beneath the sand and vanishing into the depths.

Elm gasps for air, his face still tinged with purple when I reach him. I glance around—only Marshalla, Jake, Elm, and I remain.

I wonder if any of us will survive long enough to make it back.

“That was the Sunsplit Serpent,” Marshalla says, her breaths ragged. “We need to leave. Now.”

Once Elm’s color returns to normal, we set off toward the border, the cursed book heavy in tow. The sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the sand. Exhaustion gnaws at all of us, but stopping to rest isn’t an option. Not out here. Not with beasts like that serpent lurking beneath the surface.

I’d rather take my chances back in the palace—with a green-eyed monster I am familiar with.